Bound by the Ring: Smèagol's Tale
by A Feathered Quill
Summary: {{A collab with me and Untitledespair!}} Smèagol was a normal Stoor hobbit. He had many friends; and like all Hobbits, he loved the comfort of home. But all of that changed after his Birthday Present became his, and only his... Or so he thought. He was changing...


**Myth's Journal**

**Hello my preciouses! **

**First off, as my second story of my FF redo, a collab has sprung! Me and untitledespair - or so he is named for now,- will be working together. This story is based off Gollum / Smèagol, before and long after he acquired the One Ring. Gollum/Smèagol in the books intrigued me; for he was an odd character, with a semi-unknown past and multiple personalities...**

**Which brings us to this story. In which we have decided to expand on this character.**

**Not that most of you took the time to read that. **

**But yay to my awesome friend who agreed to do this with me!**

**Untitle's Journal:**

**Hey,**

**Thanks for reading this collab by Myth and myself. I just want to start off by saying thanks, and I hope you enjoy. Second, this is a story related to Lord Of The Rings. So please keep that in mind as you read. Finally, I want to thank Myth for convincing me to get a FF, without her, I wouldn't be writing this.**

**DISCLAIMER: We own nothing. All rights go to thier respectful owners.**

**Read on~ **

**Prologue**

**=x=**

**Bree**

**=x=**

Our story begins in the larger town called "Bree". This place is home to men, hobbits and the occasional dwarf; but is a place most elves don't care to dwell in. Smèagol was in the Prancing Pony, the local tavern, having a small drink. The lights were dimmed, as always, and the unbroken chatter of the locals was louder than normal, but nothing to be afraid of. For the hobbits, men and the dwarves got along well, and the small group of elves that did come into Bree stayed in the dark corner of the Prancing Pony, and tended to keep to themselves. Silently speaking their native tongue, and quick to draw if need be.

Smèagol began to sip down some nice cider, closing his hand carefully around his birthday present. But as he lifted his tankard for another gulp, a taller man with a scruffy beard, and ragged, worn clothing grabbed Smeagol by his arm, tossing him from his seat easily; as if the hobbit weighed nothing more than a chicken's feather. The tankard clattered to the ground and Smèagol fell back on his hands, looking up at the man as the room went silent, everyone holding their breath and waiting as he yelled: "This creature is a thief!"

Suddenly, a group of men appeared from the shadows in the room. At first glance, Smèagol could tell, despite their heavy wool cloaks, that were armed, and looked more fit than most fighters in the Inn. Smèagol gulped, but found the courage to quickly reply: "I found my precious all by myself! It is mine, ha ha!"

After saying this, the elves in the corner drew blades, and the tallest one, wrapped in silver and gold robes, began to speak with a taunting tone, his voice laden with an odd accent from other lands; and other times. "It's not uncommon to see men accusing others of stealing what isn't theirs to begin with."  
The men then drew their blades to match them. Their bodies were tense in the anticipation of a battle; especially with that of ancient folk. But they were waiting, glancing behind their shoulders at what Smèagol could only assume was their leader. The man that had tossed him to the ground. With a roar, the man yelled at the elves, "go back to Rivendell, you knife eared freaks!"

This was enough to aggravate the two elves to break into a fight. The men and the elves fight was the center of attention as knifes were thrown at the wood posts holding up the ceiling, causing most to duck under the counter at with the startled inn keeper stood. The local band began to play a comical piece of music to offset the mood. But Smèagol paid no attention as he lept to his feet, running to the door. This fight was the perfect opportunity to save himself from any of the dangers that he was about to face.

After getting far enough away from the Prancing Pony, Smèagol reached into his pocket to find the ring; he held it in his open palm and he instantly became mesmerized with it. The shimmering golden ring shone in the pale sunlight that rose over the hills of Bree-land. The gold of the ring turned to red; then to a fire as Smèagol soon found it was a challenge to put it down! His greed began to take over, and his mind was changing. Then, he snapped out of it, realizing he had been sitting, staring at this ring for quite some time. He was now sitting there, realizing he had forgotten to thank Dèagol for his 'birthday present'. So, Smèagol got up, and began to look for his cousin, Dèagol.

"Dèagol, oh Dèagol, where are you cousin?" he called out for quite a while, wandering down the path that led to the Shire. If anywhere, Smèagol thought, Dèagol will be In the only place he could be...


End file.
